


Ooops?

by StopDroppingBabyYoda



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Yoda is called Bean, Badass Reader, Breeding, Complete, Cunnilingus, Defiling of a spaceship, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, Feels, Floor Sex, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Forcing din to stop being stubborn and admit his feelings, Gagged with a glove, Gotta be quiet so you don't wake baby yoda, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Quiet Sex, Sex, Sex in the Dark, Size Kink, Unrequited Love, You get fucked against the Razor Crest, because that's how i roll, marriage kink, reader gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopDroppingBabyYoda/pseuds/StopDroppingBabyYoda
Summary: You smile at each other in the darkness. His hands glide from your hips to the sides of your breasts and back; yours stroke his face and trace his features as if it would give you the answers to every question you had about his looks. You wish you could see him.Really see him.And then as if some higher power heard you -The light flickers back on, and you're staring straight at his naked face.--You blink, your voice on the verge of hysteria. “What do you mean we need to get married?!”
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 547
Kudos: 2544





	1. Chapter 1

The little Bean was asleep.

Mando was halfway through stripping, about to catch himself a quick shower.

You were in the cockpit, feet up on the dash and humming away to your favourite tune. The auto-pilot was switched on and you used the unusually peaceful moment to gaze upon the stars and unwind.

And that's when the ship suddenly lurches forward, sending you flying into the console. "Whoa-"

A split second later and _bye bye lights._

"Oh," you say, hoping Mando won't be too upset since you had _one kriffing job -_ _watch over the ship._

When the ship doesn't lurch again, you think _thats good._

At least you weren't under attack.

But you _were_ out of power and currently drifting through space.

Suddenly worried about the _tiny_ matter of oxygen and life support, you push yourself off the console and -

"Oof!" 

\- crash straight into Mando.

You find yourself laying on him.

Which, you know, that's totally _fine._

You're _not_ blushing _at all._

"Hey," you say casually, suddenly glad it was pitch black as you chill on top of your boss in the cock-pit of his ship you may have inadvertently broke. "I think there's something wrong with the ship- whoa! Where's your armour?" 

His chest is _definitely_ very naked...and very nice and broad and toned underneath your (suddenly _very_ curious and interested) fingertips... 

You clear your throat, trying to lose _that_ train of thought. 

"I already removed my chest piece and helmet when the power went out," he rasps, hands resting on the sides of your thighs where you remain perched on top of him. "I couldn't locate them without a light source."

You're nodding in the dark, mind reeling because _holy shit_ the thought of him in his armour but topless and helmless sent a wave - _no, a kriffing tsunami -_ of happy juice into your undies. If only there was goddamn light so you could _see_ him. 

You gulp, and without even thinking ( _stupid, stupid brain)_ ground down against him for some kind of friction. _"Oh,_ " you gasp at the pressure of his lower stomach against your lady bits. Immediately, you're embarrassed by your uncontrollable urges ( _stupid, stupid, stupid brain!)_ and briefly wonder if you could get away with him _not_ noticing...

But he inhales sharply, fingers digging into your thighs. 

_Yeah..._ he totally knows you just did that. 

The sexual tension between you both had been rising out of control for awhile now. You _know_ he saw the lustful looks you threw him, and how you not-so-subtly check out his package ( _especially that time you discovered he wears grey sweatpants to bed. Helloooo Penis outline)._ His longer-than-necessary touches and lingering gazes in your direction told you he felt the same.

But how did two people act upon such urges when one of them couldn't remove their head gear?

Sex was initiated by kissing.

Or at least, that's how you'd always done it.

You'd often wondered how Mandalorian's made a move. Was there a secret hand signal? Did the males have a mating dance?

Or perhaps a mating _call?_

Maybe you should of just grabbed his penis and proclaimed how much you wanted to fornicate with him. 

...Or sit on top of him and rub yourself against him in the most rapiest way _ever_ like you were currently doing...

"Is this okay?" you decide would be a good place to start.

A heavy exhale leaves him, followed by large hands slowly gliding up to your hips. "Yes. More than okay," he rasps.

You find yourself leaning down towards him. "Should I keep my eyes close?" you whisper. One hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin pleasantly. You practically purr. "In case the lights come back?"

Your nose nudges his.

"No. They won't come on without repairs." His breath hits your lips, minty fresh. "Now stop talking," he orders before forcing your head down and closing the distance between you.

His hand remains there, keeping your lips sealed together. The other wraps around your waist, pinning your body to his and _guh_ you're like a puddle of goo in his hands. 

You don't know if it's against the rules but you figure he'll stop you if it is; your hands slide up his chest to his face where you trace his features, your thumbs gliding over his cheek bones, palms grazing stubble. 

A thrill shoots through you at getting to learn him like this.

You grip his hair, threading it through your fingers. He growls and kisses you harder, unable to resist flipping you onto your back when you whimper against him.

He presses you against the floor like he wants to _possess_ you. Greedily, you take everything he gives, feeling starved for this man.

A thrust against your centre has you moaning. He shushes you between kisses in the same way he comforts Bean when he's crying but you're too far gone to pay attention. Your mind can barely keep up with all the sensations, mixed with the fact that _holy shit this was finally happening._

Another _grind_ combined with a naked (when did _that_ happen?) hand sneaking up your shirt has you crying out into the kiss.

Mando breaks away from you noisily, panting heavily against your cheek as he twists your nipple in punishment. "You need to be quiet, little one," he rasps. "Don't wanna wake the kid."

Dazed from overwhelming sensations combined with toe-curling, oxygen stealing kisses has you mumbling a confused, "Huh?"

He gives a breathless laugh and if you weren't so drunk on lust, you'd have grinned at hearing the sound. "All right," he muses and you feel his body shift as he reaches for something. "Guess I need to ensure your silence so our fun doesn't end prematurely."

Fingers grip your cheeks, forcing your lips to part. You feel yourself gush at the roughness of his move.

_Fuck yes._

"Open wide," he tells you and you do so without hesitation. Thick material fills your mouth. "My glove," he offers as an explanation.

You make a noise of acknowledgment before lifting your hips to rub against his bulge.

_More of this, please._

He cuts off his own groan, and you _really_ wish he didn't because you wanted to hear it, but you also _really_ didn't want Bean to wake up and be forced to stop.

Mando's fingers reach for your shirt and you help him pull it over your head. To make things go faster, you remove your bra whilst he works on your pants, pulling your underwear down with them. Other than your socks, you were completely naked and exposed in front of him.

His mouth lands on your stomach and you jump with a quiet squeak, the sound turning into a moan when his greedy mouth searches hungrily for your breasts. He licks at them; mouths at them; sucks at your nipples until your breasts feel hot, heavy and swollen. It's like he couldn't get enough of your body, so decided to frantically kiss and tongue every single inch of available skin in an attempt to quench the thirst. 

You writhe beneath him, feeling more worked up than you ever had in your entire life. You were _so_ close and otherthan a few well-placed thrusts against your pussy, she'd barely been touched. _Very_ impressive work on his part.

"Pwease," you beg quietly but it comes out muffled. With your mouthful you can't tell him exactly what you want, so you grind your hips against him instead, whimpering at the friction.

"Oh, you want it, huh?" he rasps against your skin, and you almost cry as his lips make their way down your stomach.

 _Yes, yes, yes keep going!_ You nod frantically even though he can't see you. 

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs and suddenly your legs are over his shoulders, his hands gliding over the skin of your stomach. You jump when you feel the cold from the beskar of his gauntlets; your pussy throbbing when you think about how _kirffing_ hot it was knowing he was still wearing them.

_Amour kink?_

Apparently.

He takes mercy on you and flattens his tongue against your entrance, dragging it slowly up to the top of your slit, where he takes a moment to flutter the muscle over your stiffening nub. You sob against his glove when he does it again, and again, and you find yourself humping his tongue. It only takes another few seconds for him to lap an orgasm from you, a satisfied hum in his throat as he works you through it.

He pulls away and you hear the _clink_ of his belt as he pulls it open. You let out a needy whine at the thought of him kneeling between your legs, belt and pants open; the material lowering as he frees himself. _Kriff,_ you wish you could see it.

And then he's climbing back over you, resting an armoured forearm next to your head. He removes the glove from your mouth and throws it; his lips brushing yours as he lines your bodies up and you tilt your hips, greedily wanting - _needing -_ him inside of you and then you're both sucking in air as the tip of him works you open. 

_"Fuck_ ," you whisper, lips forming an 'O' whilst he exhales heavily; air brushing over your cheeks. " _More more more more-"_ you beg. 

He bottoms out slowly, wringing more sounds from you; noises you didn't even know you were capable of. 

Your fingers grip the gauntlet next to your head whilst the other threads itself through his hair. His lips brush yours as you pant against each other, foreheads touching. 

"You feel that?" he questions in awe, grinding against you; _inside of you_. His hand presses against your lower belly. 

"Y-yeah," you whimper, nodding. 

_You felt everything._

He nods back. "That's me," he whispers, pressing his hips against you. "That's me inside of you."

_Holy..._

You cry out and he crushes his mouth against yours in an attempt to keep you quiet. It's his own fault, really. He can't say things like that and expect you to _not_ lose your head.

The hand on your belly glides upwards, slithering a path between your breasts and up to your neck where he holds you. Your hips grind; deep, barely-there thrusts which put the _perfect_ amount of pressure on your clit. Your feet brush against the material of his pants and armour which pools by his ankles when you move your legs to wrap around his waist, trying to pull him even deeper inside. 

_You didn't want him to leave._

_Ever._

You cum again; your cries muffled by his lips and body shaking under him. You squeal at the intensity of it and he laughs quietly at you until you calm down and slump against the floor, legs aching in that _oh so pleasant_ way. His own release is only a minute behind yours with a weak, _"Can I?"_ whispered against you. You nod frantically and it's your turn to kiss him through it, swallowing his quiet grunts. You feel him pulsing inside of you and it's the first time you consider _oh shit - did he use protection?_

But you trust him enough to know that yeah, he did, _especially_ if he was coming inside of you like that. 

__ You smile at each other in the darkness. His hands glide from your hips to the sides of your breasts and back; yours stroke his face and trace his features as if it would give you the answers to every question you had about his looks. You wish you could see him.

 _Really_ see him.

And then as if some higher power heard you - 

The light flickers back on, and you're staring straight at him. 

\--

**May continue this. Not sure yet because I already have a fic I'm updating and, like, a million ideas which won't leave me alone. But _if_ I do decide to continue, here's a single sentence which pretty much sums everything you need to know:**

_"What do you mean we have to get married?!"_

_👀_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	2. Chapter 2

You were waiting for him to talk.

  
He'd been silent since the... _incident._

  
The moment the lights had flickered back to life, you'd gasped, eyes roaming over every bit of forbidden skin, freckle and pore available to you. Before you'd realised what his shell-shocked expression meant and you quickly covered your eyes, exclaiming:

  
_“I'm not looking!”_

  
But it was too late.

  
You knew it.

  
He knew it.

  
The damage was done. 

  
His oath to the creed, broken.

  
You felt guilty as hell.

  
He looked downright frustrated and conflicted, although he tried to hide it from where he sat with his back against the console; pants back in place with his belt undone and hair a mess.

  
Goodness... _that hair._

  
You tried hard not to peek at him but sometimes you couldn't resist a quick glance before you'd quickly look away like a child caught with it's hand in the cookie jar. 

  
He was older than you'd expected but an age difference didn't bother you. His hair long, curling at his ears with matching brown eyes and a hook-like nose. You tried to avoid looking at his lips; just knowing you'd kissed them and moaned your orgasm against them sent a fire into your belly.

You clear your throat.

  
This silence wasn't helping and Bean would be awake soon.

  
You needed to sort this.

  
“We could pretend it didn't happen,” you suggest from your spot against the wall opposite him. You were wearing your shirt along with your underwear, one knee pulled against your chest, trying to ignore the pleasant ache from your nether regions. You knew you'd be feeling it for days; he'd been _that_ good. “I won't say anything...Not a peep.”

  
“No.” He speaks up suddenly, startling you. His voice is rough; you can't tell if it's because of his anguish or from your fucking your brains out under a hour ago. “I won't disrespect the creed like that.”

  
_Yeah._

  
_Fair enough._

  
You sigh, wondering where you went from here.

  
Your heart squeezes at the situation. He lost so much just from being with you. 

  
You wasn't worth that. 

  
He'll most likely resent you now. 

  
Hate you, even.

  
Maybe even send you away...

  
“We need to get married,” he rasps abruptly.

  
Orrrrrrrr _not._

  
You blink, your voice on the verge of hysteria. “What do you mean we need to get married?!”

  
You hadn't even known him that long. 

  
Two basic months, tops. 

  
You knew you liked(as in _like liked_ ) him from the moment you'd met. Sometimes, you just _clicked_ with a person. It was like that with him from the get-go. What began as crush with a pinch of infatuation became a close friendship. Your crush didn't go away as time passed, only grew more meaningful.

  
You adored him. 

  
Cared for him.

  
You could easily fall in love with him. But you weren't there yet.

  
_Nope._

  
Absolutely not.

  
_(Lies)_

  
Apparently Mando also needed a moment to gather his thoughts because he doesn't respond to you right away. “You know the Mythasaur 'round the kids neck?”

  
You nod. You'd seen it multiple times. The pendant barely left Bean's mouth. “Yeah.”

  
“Do you remember what I told you?”

  
It was hard to look at his face for too long for a myriad of reasons; Because he was attractive as hell in your opinion and you were slightly flustered; because you'd had sex with him. Your face flushes when you think about how'd you cum against those lips and tongue. 

  
Because even though you knew _him_ , you didn't _know_ his face and if it wasn't for the familiar armour and voice, he could have been a complete stranger sitting across from you.

  
But mainly, you think, it's because the entire time of knowing him, you'd purposely gone out of your way to avoid catching him helmless. Being able to actually _see_ him and _look_ didn't feel...natural. 

  
You wonder how long this feeling will last. 

  
Mando says your name and you realise that you were staring at him, or at his neck to be specific, trying to get the courage to look into his eyes for more than 5 seconds at a time. 

  
“Sorry,” you breathe, thinking about his question. “Yeah. You told me to go to the covert if anything happened to you and show it to the Mandalorian's.”

  
You'd been with him a few weeks when he'd told you that, obviously having decided to trust you enough with the information and to take full custody of the kid should anything happen to him. 

  
Such a bittersweet conversation that had been.

  
He nods, his wrist resting against his knee as he leans towards you. “The kid is...my foundling. He has the protection of my creed.” He pauses for a moment, faltering. “Baring my face to another living being breaks the Mandalorian Code of Honor...with the exception being my child...or wife.” He ducks his head, forcing your eyes to meet his. "If something happens to me, and I'm no longer part of the creed... you'll be all alone trying to protect him against the Empire." His voice cracks. "I _can't_ allow that." 

  
You breathe in sharply, registering his words.

  
So he could still be a Mandalorian...Still ensure Bean's safety in his absence... as long as you marry him. 

  
Briefly, you wonder if this meant Bean has seen his face. Surely being his foundling was the same as being his son?

  
Your hand goes to your forehead where you try and rub away the headache forming.

  
This was all too much.

  
You'd only wanted the D...not a marriage proposal.

  
Although, had the circumstances been different, you might have even been happy. 

  
_Being married to him_...you almost smile. 

  
_Mrs. Mandalorian..._

  
If only it was because he loved you. 

  
You realise then – _that's_ your issue with this. You felt for him a lot more than you were willing to admit and you weren't sure you could survive the hurt of him marrying you out of necessity. 

  
You wanted the real thing. 

  
_Oh boy._

  
You were in trouble with this man.

  
But...you'd do it for the kid. So he would always be safe.

  
You'd do anything for that little Bean, even if it meant a life-time of potential longing and heartache.

  
“Okay,” you agree with a slow nod. “Got a colour scheme in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	3. Chapter 3

You tug on your pants, mind reeling. “I don't need a dress?”

You weren't gonna lie – that _hurt_.

“No,” Mando tells you, making quick work of his belt before adjusting his pieces of armour. He was still lacking a chest piece and helmet. 

“What about flowers?” Your fingers itched to hold a bouquet. 

He must have heard something in your tone of voice because he frowns at you. “No. When a Mandalorian marries, they don't require anything other than their intended and an exchange of vows.”

You falter whilst running your fingers through your hair. “Not even cake?”

_What kind of monsters have a wedding without cake?!_

He simply shakes his head.

You could cry. “Or- or wedding rings?!”

He only frowns harder at you. 

You take a breath, trying to push back your feelings of panic and anguish.

Unintentionally, you were starting to show just how much it bothered you to be lacking the key elements you'd considered essential to your dream wedding, and the Mandalorian was catching onto those feelings.

And that would achieve nothing other than making him feel guilty... and you feel worse for _making him_ feel guilty. 

So you push them away and work with what you _did_ have.

“Bean should be here,” you tell him, your voice sounding weaker than you'd intended. You were still processing so much, you'd began to feel numb, which in turn made you sad because you shouldn't feel that way moments before your wedding. 

The little girl in you wants to cry as her dream ceremony crumbles before her eyes. 

You remind her _not so politely_ that that this was _far_ from your dream wedding considering your 'husband' wasn't marrying you out of love.

Mando nods in agreement. “I'll need to get my helmet.”

You blink at him in confusion. 

_Did that mean..._

Or was wearing armour part of the ceremony?

“Has Bean not seen you without it?” you ask hesitantly, because you wasn't sure it was any of your business.

“No,” he says without offering more, and then leaves. 

That confuses the hell out of you because you'd witnessed him with Bean. 

Listened to his murmurs late at night when the little monster couldn't sleep. Seen how distressed the Mandalorian would get when the kid cried, or decided to play a game of hide-and-seek without informing his carers. 

You'd heard the nightmares. The gasps of _“Kid!”_ before he rushed out of bed to check on him. 

Hell, this entire wedding was so Bean would always have protection.

There was no way in hell Mando didn't act like a father to that kid. 

And the code said he could reveal himself to his child...

Unless it only applied to biological children, which would suck, because blood didn't mean everything, especially when it came to adorable little adopted green babies...

You smooth out your clothes and attempt to untangle your hair with your fingers.

You might not be able to dress the way you'd have hoped for your wedding, but the _least_ you could do is not appear to have been rammed by top notch dick a hour before.

Mando returns shortly, helmet and chest piece back in place along with the black fabric he wears underneath. Bean sat in his arms, eyes blinking sleepily.

A smile lifts your lips. 

He looked so adorable when he'd just woken up; a little on the cranky side but clingy and soft, too. 

“Aw,” you coo, approaching. “Our little Bean still tired, huh?”

He gives a whimper and buries his head into Mando's side. You stroke a hand over his head and along the rim of his ear, receiving a trill in response.

Mando shakes his head. “Don't let the little womp rat fool you. He was sitting in his bunk drawing,” his helm tilts down towards the kid fondly. “He just likes it when you make a fuss.”

You laugh quietly.

_Yeah, that sounds about right._

“All right then,” you say suddenly, ready to get this over and done with before nerves get the better of you (or tears). “Let's get this show on the road.”

–

You shift the kid onto your hip when Mando hands him over. He glances between the two of you with a trill of intrigue.

He could most likely sense something. The air with thick with... _whatever the hell was about to happen between the two of you._

You weren't even sure at this point. 

A Mandalorian wedding could require a blood sacrifice as far as you knew.

Although he had mentioned all you needed was each other and an exchange of vows..

“You gonna fill me in on what I need to do here?” you ask with a small laugh to cover up your anxiety.

He adjusts his stance where he stood directly opposite you. If you didn't know better, you'd say he was just as nervous as you were. 

“The vows are in Mando'a,” he tells you. “You just need to repeat them after me.”

_Great._

You were totally going to butcher this.

You nod, swallowing. “O-okay.”

Butterflies attack your stomach. 

His hand extends towards you almost hesitantly. 

For a moment, you think he'll change his mind, before he rests a palm on your shoulder. The touch of a warm thumb against your neck makes you realise he'd left off the gloves. 

You inhale sharply, your body feeling like a mess of jelly, intense fluttering, and live circuitry. 

You wonder if this is what's considered _sensory overload_. Especially when he takes a step closer, placing his other hand on Bean's back.

He was crowding you and _you loved it._

Even if it was most likely part of the ceremony. 

For a moment, you could pretend this was _real._

_Kriff..._

_It felt so real..._

“Mhi solous tome,” he starts, voice strong in contrast to the tremble you're _sure you're not imagining_ in the hand on your shoulder. 

Your heart pounds, legs like wet noodles. 

How were you still standing?

This entire thing was so...simple. 

You only had to say _words._

Yet, where the heck had your breath gone?

You peer straight into his visor, wondering what he saw on your face. 

You wonder what you'd see on his, had his helmet not been in the way. 

For a moment you almost regret having the kid here; you'd never get married again or get this moment back and it saddens you that you can't see his expression.

But Bean was so _god-damn_ important. 

There was _no way_ you could leave him out of your wedding.

Mando's thumb caresses the spot on your neck where it was resting, and he says your name.

Was...was he feeling your pulse?

_Oh boy_ if _that_ didn't make you more nervous, _knowing_ he could feel how hard your heart was beating. 

“Sorry,” you manage weakly. 

Your eyes were watering. 

You didn't know if it's because you'd forgotten to blink, or because _holy crap you were marrying Mando._

_Right._

_Now._

His voice is hesitant, but soft. “You're trembling.”

A choked laugh escapes you.

_Did he not realise it?_

“So are you,” your voice is barely a whisper.

You'd got better at reading him with his armour on as time passed. Which is how you know he's startled at what you'd observed, by the way his helmet tilts towards your neck where his hand rested, most likely wanting to see for himself.

“Oh,” he says, and then, “I guess I am.”

Bean remains quiet, head leaning heavily against your shoulder and if you'd have looked down, you'd have seen his tiny hand resting on Mando's arm.

“Start again,” you tell him before taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

It was crazy intense but... _you could do this._

His shoulders lift as he takes his own large breath before repeating: 

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you say after him _without_ surprisingly butchering his language. 

You wonder what it means, especially when his voice breaks on the next line.

“Mhi solus dar'tome.”

You feel his hand trembling harder or hell, maybe it was just you.

You reach up and grip his wrist.

“Mhi solus dar...tome.” A bit more difficult, but you think you managed it.

His fingers tighten on your skin. “Mhi me'dinui an.”

_Oh no._ Now it was getting harder. “Mhi...me'din...ui an.”

If you said it wrong, he doesn't mention it. “Mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi ba...juri verde...r?”

“Verde,” he corrects softly.

_Right._ You clear your throat. “Verde.”

He doesn't say anything for a moment.

Gives a little tilt of his head before hesitantly stepping forward.

You hold your breath.

And then he's bending his knees, thumb stroking your throat as his helmet descends to your head, where he presses the curve of his armoured forehead against yours.

Your heart jumps and you curse yourself because you _know_ he just felt that. 

As if confirming your thoughts, he gives your skin a light press with the pad of his thumb before pulling away from you completely.

You miss him immediately.

When he speaks, his voice his rougher than before. “It's done.”

You're surprised because the whole thing barely lasted, _what? 4 minutes?_

“We're married?”

Bean gives a happy coo whilst Mando confirms, “Yes.”

“So I'm now Mrs. Mandalorian.”

_Huh._

_Kind of cool._

“Mandalorian's don't have titles,” he informs you. “But if you were going to use one, you'd be Mrs. Djarin-” His tone softens and he sounds almost in awe. “-Wife of Din.”

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, heart jumping at his words.

_Wife of Din..._

“Din,” you test the name on your tongue. _It feels good_. “Din Djarin. That's your name?”

“It is.”

_Wow_ , you think to yourself, the word sounding breathless even in your head.

“Din Djarin...” you can't help but say it again, and without realising it, you're grinning, taking away Din's breath underneath his helm. “...my husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vows are Mandalorian wedding vows. You can google them if you're curious but I'll reveal them later on!
> 
> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	4. Chapter 4

A quickie _(okay, a bit longer than a 'quickie')_ against the outside of the Razor Crest isn't _exactly_ how you expected this bounty to end.

But there ya go.

Can't complain, really.

Tensions had been running high. The job hadn't been easy and you were both pretty beat up. The pain and adrenaline morphing into arousal. 

Luckily, it was dark outside.

And the kid was still asleep; you'd been gone an hour, max.

Before you could lower the ramp to the ship and enter, he'd grabbed your arm and kept you walking towards the back end of the ship, his chest firmly against your back and his very obvious arousal poking you.

It was the first time he'd touched you since your wedding last month.

“If you don't want this, tell me now.” He barely gets the words out before you're nodding frantically.

_“Oh god yes.”_

You're glad you're not the only one worked up; you'd already been planning a night with your hand between your legs as a poor substitute for his cock. 

The real thing would be so much more satisfying.

He leads you to one of the back legs of the ship; one of the _only_ parts connected to the ground. The steel leaves the side of the ship diagonally before breaking off vertically to the circular foot plate. 

Din shuffles you towards it, hands groping your breasts roughly through your shirt. 

You whimper, feeling surrounded by him. 

He made you feel _tiny._

Your toes hit the foot of the ship and you step onto it when Din persistently nudges you forward. 

“Put your hands out,” he rasps through the modulator. It vibrates into your ear and you shiver, doing as he says.

Clasping your hands on top of each other, you place them against the steel leg for support, sticking your ass out. His feet box yours, signalling for you to put them together. 

_Stars_ , it was _hot_ him taking what he wanted. 

Your chest heaves, and he gives your tits an enthusiastic rub with the palm of his hands, feeling the weight of them, before they're sliding down and around to your hips, where he hooks his fingers into your pants and pulls them down to your thighs. 

Okay.

So you were doing this mostly clothed.

Why was that so _kriffing_ arousing?

An object hits the ground near the leg of the ship. His gloves. You moan in the back of your throat as warm, naked fingers palm your ass, spreading your cheeks before slipping between your legs.

He pats your entrance with two fingers, testing your wetness. 

Your pussy clenches, desperately trying to pull the digits inside.

“ _Stars_ ,” he breathes.

“Don't – _I'm ready_ – just-” you were practically grinding against thin air, needing _some_ kind of friction. “Inside. _Please_.”

“Look at you,” he says almost in awe, panting, as he releases himself and makes quick work of protection. He pumps himself twice before pressing the tip against you.

Not quite entering.

Just teasing.

He nudges forward enough to spear you open on the thick head of him, only to pull back again.

Your legs shake. 

“Din!” you curse in an angry whisper.

He chuckles against your ear, chin resting on your shoulder, his Beskar cool and smooth against your cheek.

You wish he'd remove it, but you knew he wouldn't. Not outside at least. 

_(then again, he hadn't removed it once since you'd got married. You missed his face, heart aching for it, but it didn't feel right to push him)_

The Mandalorian takes pity on you, and grips himself. The slick-drag across your pussy has you trembling before he slowly guides himself inside, opening you up completely.

You try to push yourself back against him but his hands move to your hips, holding you still.

You want to cry.

He drags against your walls. Your pussy grips him so tight you're sure you can feel every pulsing vein on his cock.

You choke out a moan when he finally bottoms out, the tip nudging your cervix. 

An arm wraps around your front, his gauntlet between your breasts and he grips your opposite shoulder before he pulls you forcefully onto him.

You gasp out a _ngh_ sound, moving a hand to grab at his wrist.

You feel impaled.

Stretched.

_Wrecked._

Your legs shake.

“You-you're fucking huge, Din.”

You knew this. You'd already had him inside of you and felt it for days after, but having your legs so tightly closed around his cock allowed you to feel it _so much_ more thoroughly.

“And you're so damn tiny,” he breathes harshly, still holding you in place. Indulging in you. “How can anyone be this _tight_?”

_Kegel exercises,_ you think instantly. 

You give him a casual shrug, leaning your head against his. “Magic pussy?”

“Oh yeah – yeah she is,” he murmurs. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pulls out with a modulated grunt. “She's – she's so good. _You're_ so good, you know that?”

He slams back into you and you whimper.

“Huh?” he pushes when you don't respond. 

_Out._

“You know that, _little wife_?”

_In._

How the fuck did he expect you to respond when he was hitting _that_ spot inside of you?

“Din,” you breathe helpless. “Just – _please_ – shut up and fuck me.”

He palms your ass, squeezing hard. “Filthy little thing, aren't you?” He grinds deeper into you, nudging your cervix in that perfect fucking way between _pain and pleasure_. “Want me to wreck you, huh?”

Your pussy squeezes him almost pleadingly as if to say _yes, Din, please destroy me behind repair. Please and Thank you._

His hand moves to your neck; tightens momentarily around your throat. 

“Yeah,” he breathes harshly. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he _really_ starts to fuck you. 

No longer are his thrusts teasing and slow with the aim to make you beg and cry; they become fast, _hard_ , and _deep_ ; thrusts which drag long that spot inside of you before kissing your cervix and forcing the air out of your lungs _and you're pretty sure you're going cross-eyed._

You don't have to worry about making too much noise because your screams are stuck in your throat. Din's hips slam against you time and time again in furious movements, using you as a release for all his pent up energy. 

You didn't mind.

Your orgasm approaches faster than a warp jump through space. You grip Din's wrist as he pounds you and makes you feel like you're floating amongst the stars. 

Din feels you're about to erupt into a thousand pieces and you sob when he wiggles two fingers between your legs, trapping your swollen clit between them and squeezing in time with his thrusts. 

“C'mon, sweet one, c'mon...” he murmurs, though you're not sure he's even aware of what he's saying, but you nod in response. 

“C-close,” you whimper, and then all it takes is a perfect _thrust-and-squeeze_ and you're exploding around him like a supernova. 

“ _Good girl_...you're so _good_ to me...” he rasps, and grunts, and then his thrusts grow erratic as he searches for his own release.

It follows quickly after yours. You'd have collapsed if it wasn't for his arm holding you against him. He breathes a harsh breath against your shoulder, the sound distorted through the modulator. He gives a few weaker thrusts before he stops all together.

“Din,” you say weakly, feeling like a human-shaped bit of jelly.

That gets him moving.

He pulls out of you, disposing of the protection and tucking himself away before helping you with your pants. He wiggles them back over your hips, but his hands don't leave you; he turns you around, digits moving to your face where he cups your cheeks and smooths back your hair.

“You okay?” he questions, voice huskier than usual.

You swallow. “I...I think my soul left my body.”

He makes a tired sound of amusement. “Mine too. You were amazing.”

You press your head against his shoulder and snort, leaning heavily against him. “Thanks...I used all my sexual expertise standing there and taking it like that.”

His hand rests on the back of your head. “Doesn't matter what you do or _don't_ do-” he says quietly, stroking your hair. “-I'll always think _that_ ," His voice trembles. "Because it's _you_.”

Your heart jumps.

Insides squeeze.

Kriff, how could he say stuff like that?

Didn't he know you weren't equipped to handle it?

You want to kiss him.

With that thought it mind, you pull your head back and slide your fingers along the contours of his helmet, eyes fixed where his lips would be.

You nudged it upwards slightly, letting him know your intentions. You wouldn't take if off completely; Just move it high enough so you could reach his lips...

“Din...” you whisper, but he grips your hands.

Squeezes them.

And pulls them away. 

“We...should get inside,” he tells you, leaving you feeling cold, alone and confused.

Your chest suddenly aches, a feeling which had been growing familiar during this 'marriage'.

But it wasn't his fault. He made no promises to you (or real ones, at least). 

He never made you believe this wouldn't be anything more than an arrangement.

_(stupid, stupid heart)_

“Okay,” you nod weakly, trying to put on a brave face for him.

But inside, you were wondering if you could die from unrequited love...

Because it sure as hell felt like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always snigger when a character says "Stars." because I automatically hear it in Nemesis' voice.
> 
> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	5. Chapter 5

You needed a drink.

Badly.

Which is how you found yourself drowning your sorrows, alone, whilst the Mandalorian watched over the kid back at the ship. 

It was getting harder and harder to live with Din – your _husband_ – and hide how _hopelessly, unconditionally_ , in love with him you were.

And the worst part?

You're pretty sure he knows. 

It's like, he spends most of his time trying to avoid you.

You walk into a room? He finds a reason to walk out.

Before if something was bothering you, he wouldn't hesitate to ask if you were alright.

Now he keeps his head down, glancing at you out of the corner of his visor, saying nothing. 

The wedding had ruined the friendship you'd built together. 

And you're pretty sure your _not-so-secret_ feelings for him was stopping either of you from fixing it. 

You down another shot and slam the glass against the bar. It wobbles against the wood, or hell, maybe that's just your double vision. 

Dou- _ble._

You snort.

_What a strange word._

Although...you wouldn't mind a double of something Mandalorian. 

“I want to be in a Mando sandwich,” you whine to yourself, gripping the bar when you start to lose balance on your stool.

Hands? _You think?_ Steady you from behind. 

“I'll be your Mando, baby,” murmurs a voice against your neck, but you don't pay attention to him. 

“Shh!” you tell the voice sharply. “I-I'm busy wallowing in self-pity.”

You were too far gone, not even noticing how handsy he was getting. The buzz was too great. You were numb to everything around you by this point. 

Anyway.

Back to the problem at hand before the voice had interrupted you. 

_Your loveless marriage._

You knew the Mandalorian must hold some kind of affection for you. 

He got snappy when you put your life in danger. 

Made sure you got plenty of rest. 

Kept you well fed (because your cooking skills were a danger to everyone). 

But you missed... _him._

The conversations; the banter; stealing his clothes to sleep in(okay, so you still did that one, but he didn't need to know _that_ ); the touches.

_Intimacy._

_That's_ what you missed.

You felt lonely without it.

You remember hearing someone say - the worst kind of loneliness is when you desperately tried to connect with someone, but they made no move to form a connection back. 

You now understood what that meant.

You'd fallen and he hadn't been there to catch you.

You held out your hand...but he didn't take it.

You gave him your heart and-

_Oooh look –_ peanuts!

You grab a handful from the bowl as it's place in front of you. 

It was so damn frustrating though, because you _felt_ that connection in the past, so you _knew_ what it was like, and _now_ that you didn't have it?

_Now_ that the only time it was within reach was a fumble against the Desert Crest, full of _adrenaline_ and _need_ , before everything went cold again?

It.

Hurt.

“Stupid bucket head with stupidly awesome hair,” you mumble to yourself around a mouth full of nuts. “Which he won't even let me see again!”

A piece of a peanut flies out of your mouth and lands on the counter. 

You stare at it dumbly. O- _kay_ , maybe not a _piece_ but an _entire_ nut. 

You gulp down the rest and frown at it, suddenly glad Mando wasn't here to witness _that._

_Let's pretend it didn't happen._ You nod to yourself, flicking it away. 

Suddenly, someone was barking your name.

And. They. Were. _Pissed_.

You blink, head fuzzy like cotton wall and your vision taking a moment to lock onto the Mandalorian who was suddenly _right in front of you_ and _yanking_ you to him.

You stumble, but go willingly. 

“H-Hi,” you squeak against his chest, hoping he hadn't heard the whole 'bucket head' thing.

Or _dear god_ – the peanut incident _which shall not ever be mentioned._

But his attention wasn't on you. 

And neither was one of his hands.

In fact, the hand which wasn't wrapped around your waist holding you to him, was crushing some dudes throat, forcing him against the bar.

You blink. 

_Who the hell was that?_

“I-I'm sorry! She your girl? Sh-she was into, man! I didn't know she was taken!” the man choked out fearfully.

You frown.

Huh?

Da fuck he mean by that?

“She can barely _chew_ let alone consent to what you have planned,” Din growls.

Oh.

So he saw the peanut thing. 

There goes your chance at having sex with him again. 

You pout and lean against him, sighing. 

_I love you_ , you think to yourself, closing your eyes. 

Meanwhile, Mando lets the man go. The man splutters out a ' _t-thanks, man,'_ thinking Din was showing mercy, only for the Mandalorian to pull back his fist and throw it into the guys nose.

It cracks.

Blood gushes. 

He folds over, grunting in pain; The bar gasps.

And you just smile happily into Mando's chest, completely unaware.

“You're luck I don't freeze you in carbonite and leave you there,” Din rasps menacingly. “If I catch you near her again...you're gonna wish that's all I do.”

Time blurs as he leads you from the bar. The street is full of pretty lights which seem to be moving. Or you're moving. You're not quite sure.

You make small talk as you're escorted back to the ship. Din holds you close and you soak up the contact. He doesn't respond to your words, and had you been more aware of your surroundings, you'd have noticed how tense he was.

Eventually, you make it back, although you don't remember doing so. He leads you up the ramp and closes it behind you. This means he's no longer holding you up, and you stumble into some containers...

And end up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, laughing. 

“Quiet,” he tells you harshly. “You'll wake the kid,” he rasps, heading over to you. 

He looks down at you, standing by your feet.

You pout at being scolded. 

He sighs and holds out his hand. 

“Get up,” he orders, voice softer than before. Maybe he felt bad for having a go at you. 

“You get up down here,” you retort, before frowning, because your words didn't make sense, did they? “Get down here. Not up. I didn't mean that.” You frown harder. “I think. Words-words are _hard_.”

Din releases a sound of frustration, but sits anyway, his back against the weapon locker with one knee bent; he rests his wrist on it. The other stretches out along the floor, nudging your hip.

“Want to tell me what this is about?” he questions after a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	6. Chapter 6

“Nah,” you respond instantly, closing your eyes because the ceiling was spinning and it was starting to make you feel sick.

“Well, you're going to anyway.”

“Am I?” you furrow your eyebrows, suddenly not feeling so drunk.

“Yes,” he says, pausing. “This isn't healthy.”

“Neither is wearing a helmet constantly. You're lucky it hasn't, like, morphed to your skull or something.”

He shakes his head, a noise resembling a snort sounding from his modulator. “That's not possible.”

_Look at him thinking he knows everything._

“Yes it is. It happened to someone I know,” you argue.

“...Really?” The tone of voice tells you he doesn't believe you. 

_No._

“Yes!” you turn your head towards him, opening your eyes. “But he was so embarrassed by it he went into hiding for the rest of his life which is how no one knows what happened.”

He cocks his helmet at you. “Then how do _you_ know?” 

He sounds amused by you.

And it makes you smile. 

Because _this?_

_This_ is what it used to be like. 

“I – _shut up_ ,” you huff, still smiling. 

But then reality sinks in and you make a sad noise. 

Din must have heard it and seen the way your smile fell because he says your name softly, followed by, “Talk to me.”

You can't look at him, so gaze down at your feet, fingers tapping the ground. 

“Why should I?” you ask seriously.

“Because I care.” He says it in a way which makes you think he's shocked you believe otherwise.

You snort. 

“This isn't new, Din. You've just avoided it – avoided _me_. You _know_ what you're doing. So why are you even asking?”

He doesn't respond, so you drag your eyes over to him. 

“You know, don't you?” you swallow thickly. He doesn't deny it, his helmet staring straight at you. _“You know_ why I needed to – to feel _nothing_ for a little while. You _know._ ”

He looks away from you, and that alone tells you his answer. 

Tears sting your eyes and you force yourself to sit up. 

Your arms hugs yourself. “I can deal with it, Din, I can. I dealt with it before the wedding but you _pulling away_? _Fucking me_ and then _ignoring me_? I _can't_.” Your voice breaks. “I _can't_ deal with _that_.”

He sighs out your name.

You ignore him and continue. 

“I know you don't feel the same way.” Your heart breaks saying it out-loud and not having him deny it. “I understand, I _do_. I talk too much, make stupid decisions, I can't even cook, and I'm annoying, and have baggage – I get it, _okay?_ But I just – I _need_ -” you blink away your tears, sniffing as you look down at the floor. “I need you to come back. I need my best friend.”

Being married to him and him not loving you back _hurt_ , but losing him all together?

It hurt _so much more_.

Din scoots across the floor. His legs appear either side of you, his chest against your back where he boxes you in with his arms.

“I-I'm sorry,” he whispers shakily.

And that's it. 

You're fucked. 

You can't hold back the tears and let out a cry.

“Please don't cry,” he breathes, holding you tight. “I-I'm still here. I just - I can't give you that. I'm _sorry_. It's nothing to do with you, you hear me?” He says firmly, but you can hear how choked up he's getting. “You're- you're so _kriffing perfect_ to me. If – If I could...give that...I promise, it would be _you_.”

His words are sweet, and it makes your heart jump, but at the same time, confuses the fuck out of you. 

“What does that even _mean_ , Din?” you ask, turning to him. You're instantly annoyed at the sight of his helmet. It didn't seem fair that he could hide behind it whilst you were open and vulnerable. “Take that off,” you demand petulantly. 

Like an obedient puppy eagerly wanting to make you happy, he obeys, placing the helmet next to his hip.

You blink, taking in the face you'd missed so much – noting the red rimmed eyes, _aww_ – before your skin flushes and you feel rather flustered.

Seeing his face again reminds you exactly how you felt the first time. Like you were looking at a stranger ( _stars, this would take some time to get used to_ ); a stranger who you basically just admitted to loving. 

You look down shyly. 

His gloved hand nudges your chin back up. “Hey.” Your eyes find his and his lips lift with a half-smile. “You don't need to do that. I'm still the same person. I'm still-”

“-My best friend?” You finish quietly.

He swallows, eyes searching before he gives a slow shake of his head. 

“More than that,” he breathes. “Not quite what you want – _because I can't_ – but you mean so much _more_.”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” you both know that's an understatement. “But, Din, I don't know what you mean when you say that – when you say that you _can't_.”

Was it just an excuse? So you didn't feel bad about him not wanting you?

_No._

Din wouldn't lie about something like that. 

He looks down, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “I-I lost my parents when I was a child. It's how I became a foundling. The loss-” his voice breaks. “The loss of _them_ -never went away. I can't do that again.”

His words sink in and then your heart is breaking for him, too.

“Oh, Din,” you breathe, half turning so you could cup his cheeks in your hands. You're filled with realisation. Suddenly, everything makes _so. Much. Sense._ “That's why you won't let Bean see your face, isn't it? You won't accept him as your son because you can't let yourself get close to him like that...in case you lose him.”

The way his jaw tenses against your palm let's you know you were right. 

You sigh sadly. 

As relieved you were to hear it wasn't about him not wanting you, it still cracked your heart to know he'd never let you get that close. 

Or let _Bean_ get that close. 

“I'm here, Din,” you promise him quietly. “I'm not going anywhere. We can stay as we are, although I'm happy for a few more repeats against the Razor Crest-” you both smile at that. “-but I won't push you. I know you can't give me-” 

_Your heart._

_Your love._

_Your everything._

You swallow and continue.

“-can't give me _that_ ,” it amazes you how you both managed to avoid saying the 'L' word out-loud. “I'll take what I can get but promise me – don't let there be anyone else,” you plead. 

His eyes widened and he looked surprised, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. “What? No – no way. It's you and the kid. That's all I-”

_-Need._

He doesn't have to say it.

You smile in relief, pressing your forehead against his. He stiffens and then relaxes, one hand moving to the back of your head whilst yours remain on his face, stroking his cheeks. 

“And you, too,” he says gruffly, his breath fanning over your lips. “No one else. I-I was ready to kill that guy. I don't know how I found the strength in me to stop.”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and suddenly, you feel dirty. 

“I didn't even realise,” you admit, frowning, pulling away slightly so he could see your honesty. “I really didn't. I was so out of it. If I'd been more aware, I wouldn't of let him get that close. _Oh god_ ,” you panic. “Just how much did he touch me? Do I even want to _know_ -”

“I'll kill him,” Din promises, seeing your anxiety. His grip tightens on your waist. “I'll go back there tonight.”

“No, don't leave,” you press your head against his again, pulling him closer. “I feel-” dirty, raw, vulnerable, used, open. “I need you here. Can I stay with you tonight?”

You wonder if it was too much to ask the second the question leaves your lips, but he doesn't even hesitate. 

“Fine with me, but it'll be a tight fit.”

“That's fine with me,” you repeat with a smile. “Come on.”

You lead him there, laughing as you stumble and trip, only for him to catch you. He laughs at you quietly, one hand in yours whilst the other holds his helmet. 

You nudge him onto his bed, and give him a chance to remove his armour, leaving him in his black under-clothes. He lays on his back, holding an arm out for you.

You shrug off your own clothes, much to his surprise, and shuffle onto the edge of his bed with a pout. “My jim-jams are in my room.”

He tries to avoid eying your body, covered only by your underwear. “I can get them,” he offers roughly, making a move to get up.

“Or!” you nudge him back down. “You can just give me this-” you tap his top and smile innocently.

He glances down. “Sure,” he says, sitting up so he can remove it. “I think the kid is hiding my clothes. I only have a few of these left.”

You hope he doesn't check your laundry. “Oh. How weird.”

He hands it to you, and you smile at the sight of his naked chest before pulling his top over your head. It dwarfs you, the long sleeves longer than your arms and hanging over your hands; the bottom reaching your thighs. 

_Yes! Another one acquired_ , you snigger to yourself before removing your bra – you hated sleeping with one on. You fling it on top of his armour and then crawl up his side, tucking yourself underneath his arm. 

You breath him in, feeling like you were _home_.

He squeezes you, holding you close, and places a gentle kiss against your head, murmuring a, "Goodnight, sweet one." 

You hum and melt against him. "Goodnight, buckethead," you tease back, squeaking when he pinches your side in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning brings a frantic fumble in the dim light of Din's bedroom.

It's all _hazy_ and _warm_ and _soft_ with his sigh against your cheek as you sink your body down onto him, his fingers marking your hips as he lifts his, meeting you half-way.

You whimper; another new position has you learning the feeling of him inside of you all over again. He really is big, and it's stretching you out, nudging you deep, holding you _open_. 

“D-Din,” you breathe shakily against his lips. His hand strokes up your back as you roll your hips. “I have a question.”

He captures your lower lip and _drags_ his teeth across it. 

“I can't be doing this right if you can still form questions.” He reaches for you, palms your ass, and pushes you _down_ at the same time he lifts _up_. 

Your breath catches; toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“ _No_. You're doing great. Trust me,” you nod, placing a kiss on his lips. And then another. 

And another. 

You get carried away in his kisses and rolls of hips, and you laugh against him before sitting up, stopping all movement with him seated _oh-so-perfectly_ inside of you.

He lets out a sound of disappointment, hands resting on the top of your thighs where they brushed the edge of his top you were still wearing. He'd insisted you kept it on.

Apparently the sight of you wearing his clothes turned him on. 

“The vows,” you roll your hips, forehead creasing in pleasure. Gods, he. Was. so. _good_. “What did they mean?”

“You want me to translate?” His hand moves between your legs, where he lifts his shirt, and he lets out a harsh breath at the sight of him. _Inside of you_. “Look at that,” he murmurs, getting distracted.

He can't get over how you look; your red swollen lips parted for his member. Your pearl out of hiding and begging for his attention. 

He can't help but touch; His thumb nudges at your lips; teasing your clit, feeling you pulse around him in response, a whimper caught in your throat.

“Look at _you_ – taking me. You're so small,” he breathes; breath hitching, “Sometimes I wonder how I even _fit_.”

“Din,” you scold but it comes out as a whine. You were trying to be serious and he was too busy being sexy. _Ugh – Mandalorian's_. “Answer the question.”

He pulls you close, chest to chest, and then he's rolling you underneath him and thrusts _so deep_ you feel it in your stomach.

“ _Gods_!” you can't stop the moan.

“My pretty little wife,” he pants quietly, holding himself up with one hand next to your head whilst the other tugs up his shirt, revealing your breasts to him. He palms one. “Always so curious. You want to know my vows to you?”

He doesn't stop the slow rolling of his hips. 

“Yes,” you practically beg, eyes darting from his dark ones to the hand on your chest, watching eagerly as his digits play with your nipple. “Please tell me.”

“We are one whether we are together or apart,” he says, going balls deep and remaining there. He brings his chest to yours, his lips inches away from your mouth. His breath fans over your lips and cheeks as he continues, “We will share _everything_.”

He gives a hard grind before lowering his head and licking his way up your neck to your ear, where he whispers meaningfully, “And we will raise our children as _warriors_.”

You're not sure if it's the idea of raising children with him – or more specifically, him _breeding_ you – which does it, but you're suddenly _so close_ to your orgasm.

“D-Din please,” you beg, knees brushing his hips and you grab at his shoulders. “I'm so close. Your dick is too much – It makes me feel _so good_ , Din. You're going to make me cum,” you whimper.

“Good. I want it,” he growls, licking and kissing and sucking at your throat. His hand slips between your bodies when he finds your swollen clit and circles it. “Let your husband feel you.”

Your legs shake as the familiar feeling takes over your body, like lava meeting ice, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. His hips pin yours to the bed, letting you ride out your orgasm on his dick, and fingers slow their movements, drawing out your pleasure until you slump, satisfied and breathless. 

You place a kiss on his cheek as his thrusts pick back up and he grunts into your shoulder. 

“C'mon, Din,” you tangle your fingers in his hair and meet his thrusts. “I w-want to feel you, too. You stretch me out so much as it is but when you come, you get even bigger. One day, we'll do it without protection so I can feel you leaking out of me all day-”

Your words set him off and with a sharp inhale, he comes, pulsing inside of you and remaining there until his orgasm fades and he collapses against you.

You let out an _oof_ when his full weight lands on you. 

“Din,” you huff. “You fat sod – _get off_ ,” you follow up with a giggle, shoving at him.

He disposes of the protection before pulling on his pants and laying back down next to you, your shoulders brushing. 

“I think it gets better every time,” you muse. “Though, I haven't had a chance to suck you off yet. That's got to be next on my list.”

“Kriff, you can't say stuff like that,” he groans. “Not so soon after. I'm not as young as I used to be.”

You chuckle under your breath. “Later then, _old man_. Maybe whilst you're piloting. That'd be kind of hot, no? Me between your legs whilst you-”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and rolls on top of you, his stomach between your legs and mouth between your breasts. You hadn't had a chance to pull the shirt back down, so you were still exposed.

“Guess I'll have to figure out how to shut you up, hm?” He rasps against your skin, mouthing his way down your belly, his destination _very_ clear.

You whimper as talented fingers part you; an eager tongue dragging from your entrance to your overly-sensitive nub. One of your hands fall to his hair whilst the other grips his dark bed covers. 

Your legs shake. 

Two fingers _slide_ inside of you.

You moan, hips buckling. He pins them down. Teeth drag against the protective hood of your clit, exposing the sensitive tip to his mean and greedy tongue. The feeling has you holding back a scream, the sensations _too much_ and _too good_ -

Din adds a third finger and curls.

_Holy_ \- 

You can't control the volume of your moans/whimpers/cries of a dying animal/screams as your orgasm approaches rapidly. You didn't know it was possible to go from _Oooh that feels nice_ to _omfg I'm going to come!_ So. Goddamn. Fast. 

(For someone who didn't take off his helmet, he sure knew how to use his tongue)

You slap your hands over your mouth when your climax hits, back bowing and thighs clamping down on his ears. He doesn't stop, only slows, drawing out the sensations.

His fingers remain deep as if he wanted to climb inside of you, whilst his teeth graze against your nub before releasing it. His tongue soothes over you, gently lathering your swollen, pulsing pearl. Every gentle touch feels like a mini-orgasm and you -

Can't. 

Stop. 

_Shaking_. 

“D-Din,” you whimper. There's tears in your eyes. 

You want to push him away. It was too much.

But you also never wanted him to leave; his caresses on your nub were _heavenly_ but if he didn't stop soon it was going hurt, and you were pretty sure you'd die from an overload of pleasure. 

Which, apparently, is what he had in mind.

“Again,” he rasps, in that _tone_ of voice. You recognised it as the one he uses when he demands to be listened to; the one which screams _I'm in charge here. I know what I'm doing. Go against me and you'll end up with a blaster-shot to the head_. 

Heat flares through you and you huff. “I can't-” 

He scoffs, slowly dragging his fingers out. “You're dripping down my wrist and you're telling me you _can't_?” His digits leave you all together and he holds them up.

You make a noise of embarrassment. 

He hadn't been lying; a drop of you was trailing down his arm, his fingers drenched and tips wrinkled. Even his palm glistened in the low light of his bunk; you imagined they'd been a small puddle there not too long ago. 

Your lips fall open when you watch his tongue flatten against the skin of his arm, licking you off of him with a hum. The sight is enough to undo you.

“ _Okay-_ ” you squeak, eyes wide. “-Maybe I can.”

His lips curl into a half-smile, hair spiking up at odd angles from your fingers. “Good girl,” he praises. 

And then his fingers are sliding back inside of you, head lowering where he locates your pearl, swiping his tongue across it, and it's not long before you're falling apart all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, did you think the angst was over yet??? Foolsssss
> 
> (jokes. ily. plz don't kill me)

When you wake up a few hours later, Din's gone, and you're wrapped up in the blanket, parts of it tucked under your body and you briefly wonder if Din had taken the time to tuck you in before he'd departed. 

The familiar rumble tells you the ship is in flight and you stretch, noting that his armour was also gone. 

Or more importantly, his helmet. 

Which saddens you. The reminder.

You wish he didn't feel the need to hide his face in his own ship. Around his own family. 

You wish you knew how to fix his heart and help him. 

An _eep_ reaches your ears and you realise there's a pressure against your side. You glance down, smiling when you find the top of Bean's head resting against your side where he'd tucked himself under your arm. 

He was wrapped in his own blanket – perhaps Din had brought him to you so you wouldn't wake up alone?

Bean was fiddling with the metal ball, content with just laying against you until you woke. You stroke your hand over his head, his skin warm.

“Morning, baby,” your voice is groggy. 

You're happy to find you're still not hungover. 

Your smile widens, cheek turning red when you think about yours and Din's fumble in the sheets a few hours before. 

_Yeah_ , you're _very happy_ you weren't hungover, otherwise you might not have felt up to it. 

Bean shifts so he's looking up at you, ball forgotten. He babbles conversationally and you nod as if you understand. 

“Oh, really? That's awesome!” you exclaim, sitting up and pulling him close. You shuffle off the bed, making sure Din's top covered your bottom and thighs because you hadn't bothered with underwear after your morning romp. “C'mon. Let's go find Dad.”

\--

As you'd figured, he was in the cock-pit.

Helmet and all.

You approach, leaning your hip against the side of his chair and holding Bean close. His head laids against your shoulder. 

Apparently he was a sleepy baby today. 

You realise you're no longer in space but descending into a jungle. A second later you're landing amongst the trees and Din powers down the ship.

“Hey,” Din greets before wrapping an arm around your waist. You smile and lean down, placing a kiss on the top of his helmet.

You couldn't pretend everything was okay. You were still in love with him and couldn't be with him. 

That _hurt._

But you had your friend back; you had a small family to care for.

And in every other way, Din was yours. 

You'd make this work. You'd survive. 

You _had_ to.

If not for your sake, then for _theirs_.

“Morning,” you murmur back, although it was probably the afternoon by now. Your lips twist into a smile as you look at him, your face flushing when you think about how good he'd made you feel. 

How his tongue and fingers had-

_Whoa._

_Back up, girl._

There's a kid present.

You clear your throat and bounce Bean on your hip.

“You got a heading?” you question, trying to change the subject. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, hand rubbing your lower back, helm tilted towards you. “Got a job. Should be easy enough.”

You nod. “Just...be careful, please, and I'll keep this little green Bean safe.” You smile down at Bean who coo's at you, having heard his nickname. 

It wasn't unusual for you to stay behind and watch Bean – hell, it's why he'd hired you in the first place – but there had been a few times he'd taken you with him. For example, if the job needed to be done quickly. Or needed someone less... _noticeable._

And since he hadn't asked, you guess this was one of the times you were staying behind. 

“I'm...more careful now than I've ever been before,” he says as if he's just come to the realisation himself.

His gaze is on the controls – no longer on you. 

Your eyes cut over to him, but you remain silent. 

Just listening. 

“I used to be reckless. Suicidal, even. But now I have you and the kid...” he trails off.

And still, you stay quiet. 

His voice is faraway; you wonder if he even realises he's talking out-loud. 

So you just let him; you let him speak.

Let him get it out. 

“...Now I have someone to come back to...I _can't not_ come back... because I-” He doesn't move straight away, but then he kind of flinches, as if he's just confessed something he shouldn't have. “Sorry,” he chokes out after a moment.

Something in you breaks, and you have to hold back your tears. You wouldn't cry, because this wasn't about _you_ , no matter how much it hurt. 

You wrap the arm not holding the kid around his shoulder, and awkwardly lean over the side of his chair to give him a half-hug. 

“You don't have to be sorry. It's okay, Din. You're allowed to _feel_ ,” you emphasise, because _dammit_ , he deserved to feel. If _anyone_ deserved that, it was this man, literally hiding behind his armour. “It's _okay_.”

He goes rigid in your hold before he pulls away and stands, mumbling in a strained voice about needing to prepare for the job before he's leaving the cock-pit. 

Bean meeps sadly, watching him go. 

“Me too, kid,” you murmur quietly. 

It's once he's out of the room that you let your tears fall. 

You don't know what to make of his confession. You don't think he knows what to make of it himself. But at least he's having revelations. That's a good thing, right?

_Right?_

You wonder if it's a step forward.

You _fear_ it's a step back. 

Either way, you _wished_ you knew how to help him.

–

After giving Din some breathing room, you make your way down to the lowest floor of the ship. You find him at his weapons locker, selecting the best ones for the job. 

You watch silently as he prepares, bouncing Bean on your hip. The kid sucks at his hand, head resting against your shoulder. 

Eventually Din finishes and makes his way over to the back ramp. He opens it, and you follow him, standing at the top of the ramp.

“How long will you be?” You question. Instinctively, you wanted to remind him to 'be careful', but decided against it. He didn't react so well last time. 

“Couple of hours, tops.” He doesn't look at you. Rests one hand on his holster as he stares outside. 

“All right,” you click your tongue, wishing your good-bye didn't feel so _cold_. 

You wonder if the conversation you'd had last night had meant anything, because _surprise surprise_ , he was pulling away again. 

You couldn't even bring yourself to be angry about it.

Just sad. Hurt.

You turn so Bean can get to Din. “Say goodbye to your Dad, little man.”

The second the words leave your mouth you realise your mistake and watch as Din stiffens, helmet snapping towards you.

“I'm _not_ -” he exhales angrily, but interestingly enough, can't seem to say the _actual_ words. “We spoke about this. Why are you pushing?”

Okay, sadness was now gone, and _hello_ anger.

“Yes, funnily enough we did speak about this, _didn't we_ ,” you grit out. “Which makes me wonder why the fuck you're pulling away again after this morning.”

“Don't curse in front of the kid,” he says off-handedly. “And I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You're acting cold again.” Your bottom lip doesn't wobble. _Honestly_. “And I'm sorry about the 'Dad' thing. It just slipped out, _okay?_ ”

He's silent for a moment, and then he's looking away again, voice strained. “No. No this isn't okay.”

Your heart cracks.

Ice shoots down your spine.

And you swallow fearfully

“What do you _mean_ by that?” you question, feeling choked. Unable to _breathe._

“...I don't know.” His shoulders heave as he takes a breath. “Maybe...we need a break from each other.”

Just like that, your world crumbles.

You feel _weak._

_“Din_ -” you say pleadingly, blinking back tears. 

“I've got to go. We'll talk later,” he says, and then you're forced to watch him leave, each step splintering your heart further. 

… _fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr - come say hi!(or yell at me for all the pain I've caused) https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stop-dropping-baby-yoda-ffs


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life got busy. I'll try and get back on schedule! Though, there's not many chapters left now! Ekkk

As if your day wasn't bad enough with Din's _may-or-may-not be-breaking-things-off-with-you_ comment, Bean _then_ decided it was the _perfect_ time to be a grouchy little shit.

Well.

Maybe it was because of the tension and the disagreement. He _was_ smarter than most babies, so you wouldn't be surprised if he understood somewhat of what was happening. 

But still.

Didn't mean you were _happy_ with the added stress.

You feel like crying as you watch him wail into his broth as he sat in his make-shift high-chair.

“C'mon, Bean,” you sigh, nudging it towards him from where you sat opposite. “You need to eat. Are you teething or something?”

From what you were aware, he had all of his teeth, but he wasn't exactly the same species as you. He could be growing an extra _head_ as for all you knew.

He responds by crying louder, face turning a lovely shade of red, and then you barely have time to dash out of the way when he pushes the bowl off of his high-chair and onto what would have been your lap.

“Bean!” you exclaim, tears forming as you look down at the mess which was slowly making it's way across the floor in the form of a puddle. 

You were trying. You _really_ were.

But _nothing_ you seemed to do was _enough._

He continues to cry.

And _fuck it_ , you're crying with him.

“I don't know what to do,” you sob, the back of your hand covering your mouth as you let your limbs give way and slump onto the floor. 

You don't care if the broth makes it's way over to you. Let it soak your clothes for all you care. Because you didn't. Care, that is.

Not anymore.

Everything was _too much._

You and the baby spend the next few moments filling the ship with your cries. Though, for different reasons. Truth be told, you weren't actually sure what was wrong with the baby.

And for _that_ reason alone...you force yourself to snap out of it. 

You sniff, wipe away the snot and tears, and stand, trying to avoid the puddle between you and tip-toe around it. You reach the hiccupping babe and lift him into your arms.

“Okay so I know why _I'm_ crying my eyes out,” you mumble, voice thick, and feeling like an awful person because: “-but I don't know why _you_ are.”

Could he really have understood what was happening between you and Din?

Hm. 

Possibly. 

But...he _had_ felt warm this morning, hadn't he?

It hadn't stuck out at you at the time but, _yeah_ , he had.

And he'd been slumping in your arms all day, as if he hadn't the energy to so much as hold up his head. 

Without thinking you press your hand against his forehead - 

– and your heart _slams_ into your stomach. 

His head was hot. 

He had a fever. 

Oh _gods_ – he was _sick?_

_..._ and you're only _just_ realising it _now?!_

You panic. Heart pounding and trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You weren't good with things like _this._

He continues to hiccup and cry and buries his head into your shoulder. 

You were only hired to keep him safe when Din wasn't around. You had _no idea_ what to do with a sick child.

But you did know that fevers were dangerous, right?

Especially to children, _right?_

_...Fuck!_

Why didn't you know this stuff?

“I need to get you to a Doctor,” you blurt out, your argument and heart-break with Din forgotten as Bean's health takes priority in your head, pushing everything else aside. 

Bean was all that mattered right now. 

You rush up to the cock-pit and do a quick scan of the local area. You were hidden by a jungle, but there was a small town near by. 

Hell, Din might even be there. 

You _hope_ he is. So you didn't have to do this alone. 

Grabbing every bit of currency you had, you rush out of the ship with Bean still crying in your arms and head into the direction of the town. 

–

Roughly twenty minutes later you're stumbling out of the thick trees. The buildings are small and made of dark logs lined with green moss. Others had vines dangling from the roofs. Wooden sculptures of animals littered the town.

If you weren't in such a panic, you'd have admired the sight. Maybe even considered convincing Din to stay the night. But there was only one thought occupying your mind as of right now.

You ask a few of the locals. Humanoids with the appearance of animals, as if keeping in theme with the woods and nature. They point you in the direction of the town's doctor. 

Finally, you recognise the symbol dangling on a wooden sign by the door. You don't bother knocking; just force yourself inside.

There's a reception area, made with the same, familiar dark wood. Hell, the entire room – _and town_ \- had the same appearance. Which made sense. They'd probably built everything out of the surrounding forest.

“Hello? _Hello_! I need help!” you call out, Bean tucked against your shoulder as you half lean over the desk and attempt to peer around the corner. “Please!”

A head pops around the wooden support beam. Face reminding you of a Cheetah-like appearance. Furry skin loose and saggy. He was old, a white lab coat hanging off his boney shoulders.

“Can I help you?” The way he spoke reminded you of a snake, but he seemed friendly enough. 

“My baby is sick,” you look down at Bean, whose eyes were drooping as he sniffed into your shoulder. “ _Please_. I'll do anything. Just _help him_.”

Cat-like pupils flicker between you and Bean before he nods. “Thissss way.”

–

Bean still looked rough; his eyes half-hooded and body slouching where he sat, as if he didn't have the energy to hold himself up properly. But he seemed curious by the Doctor who examined him gently. 

He was scanned. Temperature taken. Told to open his mouth and go _Ahh_.

_(which took a few attempts because Bean kept trying to bite the little wooden stick the Doctor was using to hold his tongue down)_

“I think I know the issssssue,” he says, picking up a funny looking device and peering into Bean's ear. Left, then right. Bean _ehhhs_ unhappily and you place your hand on his back from where you stood on the opposite side of the counter. “Ah. Yessssss. An Inffffffection.”

_Infection?_

Your heart aches. 

Your _poor baby._

“Will he be okay?” He was so small...It must be hard for his tiny body to fight it off. Your chest aches.

“Yesssss,” the Doctor confirms. “The mediccccine will make him drowsssssy. But he'll be fine in a day or ssssssso.”

“Thank god,” you breathe, feeling lighter. 

You stroke Bean's back as the doctor injects him with a press of the button. A tiny _psst_ sounds, barely audible. Bean releases another _ehh_ , eyes big and watery.

When he tries to shuffle away from the Doctor, you pick him up and hold him close.

He may not have liked the injection – _who did?_ \- but it had more than likely saved his life. Or _at least_ , saved him from a lot of pain and misery.

“Thank you,” you tell him tearfully, hand on the back of Bean's head. You could cry. Honestly. _It has been a hell of a day_. “I'll-I'll pay you extra. You have no idea how gratefu-”

He doesn't get to hear the rest of your sentence.

It's a blur of racing hearts and panic; shattering glass followed by The Doctor's gasp of pain as he's hit from behind.

It takes you a lot longer than it should have for you to react.

You watch with wide eyes as his body goes rigid and then gives way; arms clinging to the medical counter where he'd just treated Bean before he loses all his strength and disappears from your line of sight all together.

He...he'd just been _shot._

You blink in shock.

_Killed._

Your eyes dart to the small, circular window. Jagged bits of glass cling to the frame. Tips scorched from the blaster shot. You hear faint _(but multiple, you're sure of it)_ footsteps outside approaching, feet landing on leafs and twigs, and you duck behind the counter, pulling Bean close, breathing heavily.

It was bounty hunters.

It _had_ to be.

_No one_ would target a town doctor like this. 

Which meant...

They were here for _Bean._

Your mind races; you have no idea how many there are. The building could be surrounded as far as you knew.

And it was just _you_. On your _own_. Left to fight them off because -

__(and this thought alone chills you to the bone)_ _

\- Mando had _no idea_ where you were.


	10. Chapter 10

You take a moment to breathe.

To _think._

The window was too small for them to climb through. So you didn't have to worry about them getting behind you.

But it was still an opening. For _them_. Look at what happened to the Doctor. You couldn't make a run for the door; it would put you in their line of shot.

_Assuming_ they're still there...

You reach behind you. Grip your blaster; pull it out of the back of your pants and flex your fingers on it. You could do this. 

You'd been in gun fights before.

...You'd just never had to worry about your Bean getting injured during one. 

Glancing around you, you look for anything that could be of help. Your eyes land on a pair of scissors, sitting on top of a metal, circular tray. Located on a table to the left of the counter you were leaning back against.

You could reach them. It would be good to have a close-ranged weapon. And the tray would act as shield. But also, if there's anyone still at the window, they'd see the movement. Probably shoot. Give you an idea if they were really there or not. 

You scoot your bum along the floor. Reach up. Your fingers curl around the edge of it and you pull it to the ground. 

It falls straight onto the floor with a loud _clang_. 

You cringe, but luckily they're both within range. You use you heel of your foot to bring the tray close, and then the scissors which you tuck into your front pocket. 

Shifting Bean into the crook of your arm, you keep peering at the door in front of you to the left. _Directly_ opposite the window. _Typical_.

Using your arm, you support him and awkwardly shift the edge of the tray into your hand. It rests against your palm, fingers holding it steady. Bending your hand back towards your wrist, you manage to use the majority of it to cover Bean's frame. 

This leaves you right hand free to hold your blaster. 

It wasn't an ideal way to keep him safe, but it would have to do. Until you could figure out how to get back to the ship. 

With Bean protected, you take a breath, sit up on your knees, and turn at the same time you raise your blaster, standing and backing yourself up against the wall.

You had a clear view of the window now. The door was to your right. 

No one was there; didn't mean they weren't hiding, though. Waiting. 

Keeping your gun raised and eyes locked onto the broken glass, you shimmy along the wall. Reach the door and press your ear to it. 

Silence. 

They might not have breached the building yet. 

Which was good. Because you'd much rather take your chances in the reception area, with the desk for cover and no way for them to get behind you, instead of in here, the window at your back a big vulnerability. 

You count to three, and then turn, Bean covered by your shoulder as you quickly use the keypad to open the door. Raising your blaster, you dart out of the exam room and into the reception, immediately pressing your back against the wall. The door automatically closes. 

In front of you is narrow walk-way; a support beam to your right which broke off into the counter. Seeing no one, you dart towards it, crouching, but before you can get into position, a man steps around the reception at the end of the walk-way, blaster raised.

You fire before he can. 

Direct hit to the chest. 

He flies backwards, and you fire again. In the head this time. 

Can't risk him waking up whilst you're dealing with his buddies. 

Speaking of his buddy; he grunts in a language you don't recognise, standing somewhere behind the counter. Hell – you don't recognise the species either. Big eyes with even bigger nostrils, and greyish folds of skin. 

Doesn't matter either way. They'd be dead soon.

_(or you would)_

A few shots go over your head, hitting the wall. Scorching it. Big mistake on his part, because now you have a rough idea where he is. 

And you're covered by the counter, so you have the advantage. He has none. So you peek your arm and head over, and fire at the bulky figure by the door. 

He falls back against it; arms out. Knocks over a leafy plant and slides to the side. You fire a few more times, because you were angry at being cornered like this after you the day you'd had. 

_Assholes._

You move quickly. 

Don't know if there's more of them but you needed to get out. 

Needed to get back to the ship.

Needed _Din_. 

His boot blocks the door and you have to lean down to grip the leg of his pants in order to pull it out of the way. You fling open the door. Raise your weapon. Find nothing outside.

Not even the locals. 

They were either dead or had ran into their homes at the first sign of trouble. 

You step outside. See broken sculptures on the floor. Which saddens you. Because you'd like them. You'd liked this town. 

“Fuck these guys,” you mutter.

Bean's quiet as you make your way through the buildings. Not hurt, just tired. Which was good, really. Meant he didn't have to witness this; didn't have to be scared. 

You make it into the woods and find it a little easier to breathe. You'd gotten out of there. 

Alive, and uninjured, somehow. 

It doesn't stay that way, though. 

A few feet in, you hear something. 

Stand still, but alert as you try and locate the noise. 

And then there's a _crack_ next to you, but before you can react, there's blur darting out from the tree and tackling you to the floor. 

You let go of Bean. 

Don't want him to get hurt during the fight. 

You roll with the figure, whose cursing at you in furious grunts and growls. Most likely pissed you killed his hunting friends. 

He's on top of you. Pinning your legs down and one of your hands. You reach for the scissors because you'd lost your blaster at some point, and at the same time, he pulls out a knife. 

You're faster and swipe at his face; the sight of his blade has anxiety bubbling up your throat. He roars at the pain but it's not enough to stop him. So you try and smack away his hand.

But he's _much_ stronger than you and doesn't even flinch.

Warm blood from his sliced face drips onto your hair but you barely feel it as the blade plunges into your stomach, like a hot knife in butter. 

You scream, the pain white-hot and blinding. It echoes around the forest. 

Birds fly away in flocks. 

He looks smug, and satisfied, like he's already killed you and won. He slides the knife back out and you scream again through gritted teeth, panting. Feeling dizzy. 

You can see it in his eyes how he was planning on stabbing you again and again. Butchering you to death. That's how he was going to end you. But in his blood-lust, he must have forgotten that you still had your hand curled around the scissors. 

“You're. Not. Having. Him,” you manage to grit out before raising your hand and forcing the blades of the scissors into the open hole in the side of his head; his ear, and hopefully, his brain. 

He freezes on top of you. Body rigid and then his arm drops and he's collapsing onto his side. You let the scissors go with him. Dead. 

You whimper as you roll and attempt to get your knees under you. It _hurt_. Your insides felt _wrong_. And you were _scared._

Scared to _die_. Scared of how much damaged he'd managed to do. And you were out in the forest, _alone_. You couldn't go back into town. Their Doctor was dead, and they were all hiding. You doubted they'd help you anyway. Most likely blame you for what you'd brought into their town. 

You place your hand against your stomach. Let out a sob when you feel the hot, sticky, blood on your top. 

This wasn't good. 

But you couldn't die yet. You needed to get Bean safe. 

Bean remained on the ground where you'd left him. Sleeping, by the looks of it. The way his little lips moved. He was okay. Just out of it from his infection, or from the medicine. 

Which was good really. He shouldn't have to watch you die. 

There's tears in your eyes and you use the hunters knife to cut off the hunters shirt. He was much bigger than you so the fabric easily went around your body twice. You pulled it as tight as you could with your trembling hands. Trying to slow down the bleeding enough to get Bean back home.

With the rest of the fabric, you're not sure what comes over you but you desperately try and clean your hands free of your blood. Want to pretend you're okay. Maybe it'll help you live longer. Not there if you don't see it. 

Your skin is stained red but not as noticeable as before. You nod. Take a breath which makes you feel sick, and stumble to your feet. Your insides pull and you grab Bean. 

You make it five steps before you're leaning against a tree. Walking isn't easy. Your body feels wrong. Like he took something from you. 

Oh yeah. Your _life._

You laugh bitterly. Cry a little and then push forward to the next tree. 

It's then you hear a familiar voice call your name. 

You _pray_ you're not imagining it. 

“Din?!” you shout back weakly. It _has_ to be him. Because you weren't sure you'd make it to the ship and you couldn't bear the thought of dying and leaving Bean here. _Alone_. With your fucking _corpse_. 

You hear your name again. He sounds angry, but you don't care.

“Din!” you call again, and then there's movement in the trees in front of you and you let out a slow breath.

Because he was _here_. And Bean would be all right. 

You wouldn't be. 

But that's okay. 

That's _fine._

Because you could rest peacefully, knowing your family was safe.


	11. Chapter 11

“What the kriff do you think you’re playing at?” Din growls when he reaches you. Grabs your shoulders and tries to _shake_ some sense into you. “Leaving the ship – were you _trying_ to take the kid and _run?_ ” 

He sounds appalled by the idea. 

Shocked. 

Which almost makes you laugh because _if_ that’s what you _had_ been doing, isn’t that what he'd _wanted??_

“I wasn’t-” you swallow. Blink slowly. Your belly hurt so bad you wanted to vomit. “Din, _something’s wrong_ -” you whimper, more than a little bit out of it.

But in his rage, he doesn’t notice. His fingers bite into your shoulders.

“I thought I could _trust_ you. And you do _this?_ Try and take my _son_ -” he stops. 

Pauses. 

Probably realises what word he’d just used to describe Bean.

And despite what was happening, you _smile,_ tears glistening in your eyes.

“Don’t forget that. Please,” you beg weakly, passing Bean over because it was getting too hard to stand. You practically collapse into him. Face in his shoulder. “ _Please._ Don’t be afraid to love him. If you can do one last thing for me, _let it be that._ ”

He’s frozen. Realising that something is wrong. 

Says your name more than a little hesitantly. Like he doesn’t want to believe it. Or he’s scared to find out. 

“Din.. _.Din…_ ” you say, just because you can. Because it’s probably going to be the last time. “We didn’t get to raise our children as warrior’s,” you frown. Because for some reason, your mind decides to fixate on _that._

He balances the kid on his arm. The other going around your waist. Supporting you. You can feel how stiff he is.

When he speaks, the bottom of his helmet touches your head. His voice low. Dangerous. Words clear. 

“What’s. _Wrong_.”

You laugh. For some reason. Eyes fluttering closed. 

“ _I think I’m in trou-ble,_ ” you sing-song softly. 

He barks your name. Wants you to start making _sense._

You shake your head. Dizzy. 

You pull back from him enough so your mid-drift is visible. The blood was starting to soak through the hunters shirt now. You take his hand and place it over your wound.

Swallow thickly. Tongue starting to feel weird as black dots entered your vision. 

“Knife. Hunt-ters,” you stumble over your words slightly, and fall forwards again. 

He catches you. Finds it almost impossible to breathe with how hard his heart is beating. 

“How bad?” He demands to know, breath hitching. “Sweetheart, _how. bad?“_ he asks again when you don’t respond.

“ _Bad_ ,” is all you can manage. 

The world disappears for a little while. Eyes too heavy to stay open. But you’re aware of him picking you up. Muttering a scared _god-damit_ under his breath and _why didn’t you say something sooner._

And then you’re moving. The kid resting on you – on your shoulder, and leaning against Din’s.

“You need to stay awake. I don’t have a bacta-spray on me.” He sounds angry. Words harsh. You don’t know if it’s aimed at you, or if he’s just as scared as you are. “If you-” his words break off. He takes a breath. Moves as fast as he can. “If you fall asleep, you might not wake up again.”

_Yes._ That’s definitely fear you can hear in his voice.

“S'ok,” you slur. 

“No,” he says roughly. “No that’s _not_ okay. You can’t leave me. Not like they did. This is what I-” _was afraid of._

You know what he was trying to say. Manage to find the energy to open your eyes for a few seconds. His helmet is a blur.

“I’m s-sorry,” you whisper tearfully. “S-so sorry…” you barely have the energy to move your lips but you had to say it. For the _first_ and _last_ time. “Love…you…”

And then like a candle being extinguished, you’re out. 

–

The job was easy. He’d made it back to the ship quicker than planned. Looked for you.

He knew you needed to talk. He was too harsh on you this morning. He knew it wasn’t fair on you. Honestly, he didn’t know why you put up with his hot and cold behaviour. 

If he paid less attention to you, he’d have said you stayed for the kid, but that would be a lie. Because he saw it in your eyes how you looked at him. The way they lit up when he entered a room. The way they sparkled at him.

He knew what _that_ look meant. Because hidden behind his beskar, he looked at _you_ the exact same way. 

Compared to you, though, he was coward. Afraid to fall in love. _And oh how easy it was_ – to fall in love with _you._

So he hid. Denied. Let himself indulge in you during moments of weakness. And you let him. Let him take from you. Gave you nothing in return.

When he called your name and you didn’t respond, he knew something wasn’t right. Jumped the gun when the words from earlier echoed in his head, and he cursed, because the kid wasn’t here either. So he went looking for you. 

Angry. 

_Betrayed._

Thinking you’d taken the kid and left him. Soon, he’d find out how wrong he was.

And now _here you were_. His _little wife_ who he’d neglected and wronged so badly, lifeless in his arms. Dying.

Just like he’d feared. 

And that’s what it took. Took for him to realise that denying his feelings didn’t make this any easier. 

It made it _worse._

Because if he didn’t make it back to the ship in time, he’d lose you. And it would hurt all the same. Except you’d never have known how much you’d meant to him.

He’d robbed you both of that chance of happiness. Together. As a family. 

You’d die thinking he didn’t want you. What had he said to you only hours before? That you needed a break from each other? He wanted to put his fist through something. 

This can’t be how it ended. You can’t have those thoughts in your head as your life slips away. _No._ He had to save you.

He had to fix this. 

He _had_ to have his chance to tell you that he loved you, too.

–

Din thanks his lucky stars when he makes it back to the ship and you’re worryingly pale, but still breathing. 

He lays you on the floor and puts the kid in your bunk. He doesn’t know why the kid seemed so out of it, but he was breathing and didn’t have a scratch on him. So he’d deal with him later. 

When you _weren’t_ bleeding out on him. 

Frantically, he grabs his first aid supplies. Removes his gloves and helmet. Gets to work on removing your make-shift bandage and top. Assesses the damage. 

It didn’t look good. 

You’d lost a lot of blood. 

But the wound itself he could fix. 

He’d save you. 

Because there was _no other_ option in his eyes. 

_You had to be okay._

Din uses the bacta-spray and patches you up. Cleans around the wound. Your breathing is shallow and he worries about the blood-loss. Hopes it hasn’t damaged anything permanent in your brain. 

But he won’t know that until you’re awake. 

Breathing a little easier when you’re no longer losing blood, he takes his time to clean you. Delicately removes any traces of red from your skin. Between your fingers. 

Hates how in his rage, he’d taken too long to notice you’d been injured and spent a good minute or so _yelling_ at you instead of _helping_ you. 

He puts a pillow behind your head and a blanket over you. Kisses your head and breathes you in. There’s a clean bandage around your middle now, and you’re only wearing your bra. He decides to find you a shirt because he doesn’t want you getting too cold. 

Which is where he stumbles upon your hidden stash of _his_ shirts in your laundry. And he laughs until he cries.

Because that was so _you._

With a heart which feels like it’d been put through an industrial blender, he dresses you in one of them, since you like them so much. Hopes they bring you comfort whilst you rest – whilst you heal and come back. To _him._

When there’s nothing else he can do for you, he checks on the kid. He’s a little on the warm side but he’s just sleeping. 

Can’t find it in him to care that the little womp-rat could wake up at any moment and see his naked face. 

Because he _wasn’t_ going to hide any more. 

There was _no_ denying his little family any more. 

So he grabs the kid and holds him close as he slides down the wall closest to you, watching every movement of the blanket hugging your chest, and he _waits_. 


	12. Chapter 12

When you wake, it takes you a moment to remember what happened. 

And, _holy crap_ , you were _alive._ Back at home. On the floor of the _beautiful_ Razor Crest. 

You lick your dry lips. Lift your hand to rub at the sleep in the corner of your eyes. Your belly felt okay, a little _sore_ , but if you had to guess, mostly healed. The work of a bacta-spray, you knew. 

A light snore fills your ears and you turn your head towards the sound; breath catching at the image which greets you. 

Din was slumped against the wall. Helmet off. Wrist resting on his bent knee and his head drooping towards his right shoulder, neck straining. You knew he'd feel _that_ when he woke up.

On his chest curled up was Bean. Din's gloveless hand resting on his back, holding him close, stopping him from slipping or falling. They breathed in sync and you wish you could take a picture. 

But you still felt dizzy. And weak. From the blood-loss, probably. Your hands shook and nausea rolled through you when you remembered the _feeling_ of the knife as it entered your body. 

You hope it's not something you _ever_ had to experience again. 

You sit up slowly, wincing at the pull in your stomach. Crossing your legs, you shift closer to Din and press your palm against his cheek. 

“Din,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “Sweetie, wake up. You'll hurt yourself sleeping like this.”

He presses closer to your hand. Mumbles something. Then his dark, and red, eyes blink open at you. 

You watch as his adam's apple bobs. Eyes searching you as if he wasn't sure whether or not he was dreaming. 

“You're _okay,_ ” he says, voice strained; breath hitching. “I-I thought we'd lost you. For a moment there.”

You lick your lips. Don't like that haunted look in his eye. You open your mouth to reassure him that _you're okay now_ when suddenly he's throwing himself forward and -

\- his lips are on yours before you can _blink._

Your breath catches; heart stutters. Eyes flutter shut.

The hand not holding Bean to his chest cups your cheek. Thumb traces your jaw. He kisses you slowly. At least five-seconds between every delicate movement of his lips. 

Savouring you. 

You _melt_ into him. Shift closer. Uneven breaths fanning over your cheeks. You tangle your hand with his on Bean's back. Feeling his little lungs expand with air and _good_ – _he's okay, too._

Your spare fingers thread themselves in Din's messy hair and you let yourself get lost in the moment. Forget past events. Because this _right here_ – these _two people_ \- were the most _important_ things in your life. 

His nose bumps against yours as he pulls away slightly. You feel every movement of his lips as he speaks against you. 

“I was wrong,” he says shakily. Painfully. Guiltily. “Denying how in love with you I was didn't make it easier when it came to losing you. It made it so. Much. _Worse_ ,” he admits in a whisper. 

Your heart skips. You open your eyes. Find his still closed. 

He kisses you again before you can reply. You try and pull away so you can speak, tell him _it's okay as long as he's learnt something from this_ , but he follows your lips.

_Refuses_ to let you go. 

Moves the hand on your cheek to the back of your head to hold you to him.

Stop you from trying to escape. 

And you giggle against him. He was like a needy little _puppy_. 

“Din,” you say, but it comes out muffled. He relents, and releases your lips. Leaves a hairs-width between you. “Is what you said true?” you question, more than a little breathless. “Are...are you in love with me?”

“Yes,” he says without skipping a beat. “Always have been. I was just...scared,” he admits. 

You nod. 

That last bit wasn't news to you. 

But the other bit certainly was. 

“I feel like I've died and gone to heaven,” you admit. Your foreheads rest against one another. 

He makes a disapproving noise at you. Not wanting the reminder of how close you came to dying. 

“I want to do this right,” he tells you softly. “If you'll let me.”

“I want that more than anything.” It's almost too good to be true. “But, you won't change your mind, will you?”

“No. No holding back. No more hiding,” he reassures you, pulling back so you can see how serious he is. “I'll give you everything you want from me. It's all yours.”

You smile. Feeling giddy. “Even your shirts?”

He laughs quietly, sniffling wetly. “You going to pretend you don't already have more of them than _I_ do?”

“Oh,” you smile bigger. No shame. “You found them.”

“Yes. Who knew my wife was such a naughty little thief.” He shakes his head, but, shit, he's smiling, too. “I'd wondered where they'd all got to. Thought the kid was using his powers to send them into another dimension.”

You snort at that, but before you can reply, you feel the kid shifting under yours and Din's palm. As if he knew you were talking about him. 

His head turns to the side, ear squished between his head and Din's chest. You crane your neck down to look at him and are greeted by two big, bright eyes. 

Well.

He was looking _much_ better. 

“The medicine must have worked,” you say, relieved. You glance at Din. “It's why I left the ship. He had a fever. I was so worried,” you explain, frowning as you remember. “I took him to the towns Doctor who treated him. That's when they came-”

“It's okay,” Din says, brushing a hand down your hair. “It's finished now. Nothing like that will ever happen again.” 

You nod, swallowing that lump which had began to form in your throat. You look down at the kid, and so did Din, and then the kid pushed himself back slightly from Din's chest with his tiny hands so he could look up at him.

Din froze. Held his breath. It took you a moment to remember that _holy shit this was the first time Bean had seen his face._

They stared at each other for the longest moment. 

Din appeared nervous but didn't look away. Kept his hand under yours, on the kids back, thumb brushing back and forth over the fabric of his coat. Let the kid take in his face.

Then Bean cooed and gave him the _biggest, toothiest_ smile you'd _ever_ seen. 

Din's grinning, too, teeth and everything just like Bean, but unlike the kid, his eyes were watery. And hell, you're smiling right along with them, trying not to cry with happiness. And failing. 

“Hey, kid,” Din whispers. “It's me. Your Dad.” He takes a deep breath, and adds quietly, “And...I know it's long overdue, but... _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, ad'ika_.”

Bean reaches up and touches his face with his chubby fingers. Pats his cheeks gently and trills, before pushing himself forward and wrapping his arms around Din's neck as far as he can reach. Almost as if he could sense the sudden acceptance. 

You watch as Din's eyes close and you don't even care that you're openly crying at the scene now. Without opening his eyes, Din grabs you and pulls you gently into the hug, mindful of your mostly healed wound; your arms circle them both. 

You sigh, feeling ridiculously happy. “What did that mean?” you whisper into Din's ear.

He holds you tighter. “It means _'I know your name as my child'_. It's the Mandalorian's adoption ritual. _'Ad'ika'_ translates to _son_ or _little one_. Traditionally, you say the child's name at the end of the ritual, but we have yet to name him.”

You both glance down at the very happy child, snuggled between his parents with a smile curling his lips, joyful trills escaping him. 

“But-” you go to argue.

“ _Bean_ is not his name.”

You pout, eyes flickering back to Din's just in time to catch him smiling at you in amusement. And then he's kissing you again, like he couldn't look at you and _not_ do it. 

You breathe happily against his lips.

If all it took was you getting stabbed for Din to realise that you were a family...Well, you'd have done it a hell of a lot sooner. 


	13. Chapter 13

“You ready?” Din questions.

You’re smiling. You can’t help it. “Yes! I’m ready. Show me!”

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

You do, and find Bean sitting in front of you opposite the table, holding a small cake between his hands on a wooden plate. 

He chirps and pushes it towards you. 

It looked, uh, _interesting._

Like it had been squished together. Hell, maybe it had fallen apart after baking and that’s exactly what they’d had to do in order to make it look like a cake again. 

“What is it?” you question, still smiling, but more than a little confused. “I mean, _I know_ it’s a cake, but what’s it for?”

It wasn’t your birthday….

Or anniversary. Or anything like that.

Unless you were forgetting something…

“It’s, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head, looking sheepish. “It’s meant to be our wedding cake, that you never got.”

Immediately, you _melt._

“Din…” you look at it, all clumped together in an uneven pile, and barely edible, but still, it was _perfect._ “I love it. _Really.”_

“There’s something else.” At this, he appears nervous. Fingers tapping at his belt before he forces himself to approach you, no longer standing behind Bean. When he reaches you, he kneels. “It always stuck with me. Before we said our vows. How sad you were, to not have any of your wedding traditions.”

“Those don’t matter,” you tell him honestly. “It’s not the items. It’s the people. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“I know that. But still. I wanted to-” he reaches into his pocket. Pulls out something so small, you can’t see it inside of his fist. He shakes his head as if he can’t find the words he wants and grabs your hand. Placing the small, slightly warm item in it. “Here.”

You lift up your hand. It’s a ring. With a mudhorn signet carved onto the face of it. The signet of Din Djarin’s clan. 

“Oh my gods,” you breathe. It was… _gorgeous._ “Did you make this?”

He shakes his head. “My armourer did. I told her. About you. She likes you,” he smiles at that. Takes the ring gently from your palm and grips your left hand.

Spreads out your digits before gently sliding it up your wedding ring finger. 

Your breath hitches as you look at it. Thinking about what it means. 

“I love you,” you say, because you didn’t know how else to express yourself right now. He was good at that. Leaving you speechless. “So much.”

He kisses you. “I love you more, cyar'ika.”

Beans squeals and claps. You break apart and laugh. He’d started doing that ever since Paz had done the same thing, the first time he’d seen Mando kiss you (though it had been forehead-to forehead instead of lips; the Mandalorian version of a kiss). 

“Let’s eat,” you say, reaching for a spoon, smiling so much that your cheeks begin to hurt. 

Sometimes you had to pinch yourself just to make sure this wasn’t all a dream. Because you had everything you ever wanted – _right here._

Well…maybe _one_ thing was missing…

But not for much longer. You and Din would make sure of that. 

–

“You’re gonna look so damn pretty,” Din breathes harshly into your ear as he takes you from behind. His front against your back as you both kneel on his bunk, your ass slapping against the top of his thighs and your hands gripping his hair; head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, body buzzing with pleasure and breath hitching with every thrust. You wanted him to keep talking. Loved the dirty things he said to you, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm with each word. 

“Uh-huh.” One of his hands cup your breast; thumbing your nipple whilst the other squeezes your clit between two fingers in time with his thrusts. “Gonna let me fill you up, my filthy little wife? So _good_ to me. Letting me fuck you like this with nothing between us. Gonna make me a daddy again, _huh?_ ”

“Yes!” tears sting your eyes as you push back against him. Want to feel every inch of him as you cum. “Please, Din. Fucking _breed me_.”

He laughs darkly; chest vibrating against your back. “I got you, sweet one. Your husbands gonna fill you to the brim and _stay there._ Won’t let any of it drip out of you. _Gonna get you pregnant with my kid._ You’ll see.”

“Oh _gods._ ” You moan, low and long, and you cum, eyes squeezed shut.

He encourages you with words of _that’s_ it and _just like that_ , and then he’s cumming too, and true to his word, he stays _right there_ , holding you close. Pulling your head back against his shoulder so he can kiss you deeply.

“Think we done it this time?” he asks, a little breathless.

You place you hand on your belly and think, _yeah_ , because something feels different from the other times you’d tried. 

“I think so-” you whisper, cheeks flushed as you smile. “-bucket head,” you add teasingly; it’d become your own little pet-name for him. 

“Whatever you say, _peanut_ ,” He teases in return and you groan at the reminder. He grins tiredly back at you and kisses you again. 

–

And you _had_ been right with your feeling, because 9 long months later, your _perfect_ little girl was introduced to the world. 


End file.
